Pfice\gft  CeHis 


A  Con)edy 


T fyree  Acts 


Marsdeo  Browo 


uuu  ■  UCOUOOJO — & 


Tsety 


AMERICAN  AMATEUR  DRAMA. 


BOLD  STRATAGEM. 


A  COMEDY, 


IN  THREE  ACTS. 


BY 


MARSDEN  BROWN. 


CHICAGO: 


DRAMATIC  PUBLISHING  COMPANY. 


A  BOLD  STRATAGEM. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONAE. 
Richard  Field. 

Edward  Marshall,  brother  to  Mrs.  Field. 
Mark  Williams,  Edward's  friend 
George  Field,  nephew  to  Richard  Field. 
Mrs  Richard  Field. 

Ahnie  Taylor',  1  “  *  FiM 


dOSTUMES  OF  THE  PRESENT  DAY . 


Time  m  representation ,  one  hour  and  fifteen  minutes 

■ ,  I 


Copyright,  1886,  by  Dramatic  Publishing  Company 


A  BOLD  STKATAGEM. 


ACT  I. 

SCENE. — Parlor  in  the  house  of  Richard  Field;  hand¬ 
somely  furnished  ;  doors ,  r.,  l.  and  c.,  and  window ,  l. 

[Edward  and  Mark  enter ,  c.] 

Edward.  Yes,  old  fellow,  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  but  I 
am  sorry  you  came  at  this  time. 

Mark.  Indeed!  Then  you  would  find  my  departure 
very  convenient? 

Edward.  Not  exactly  that,  Mark;  but  you  should  not 
have  come  during  Mr.  Field’s  absence. 

Mark.  I  expected  to  find  him  here.  But  why  should 
I  not  come  during  his  absence? 

Edward.  Well,  you  remember  how  he  evaded  your  re¬ 
quest  when  you  asked  to  be  introduced  to  his  wife? 

Mark.  Remember?  Yes,  only  too  well  \  I  could  see 
no  reason  why  I  should  not  know  the  sister  of  my  best 
friend.  ^  ■  ■ 

Edward.  There  was  no  reason — merely  Field’s  ridicu¬ 
lous  jealousy.  He  is  suspicious  of  every  man  who  even 
looks  at  his  wife.  If  he  finds  you  here,  he  will  consider 
,  your  presence  as  proof  that  you  came  by  arrangement 
:  with  Mrs.  Field. 

Mark.  Oh,  that’s  absurd! 

Edward.  Absurd,  certainly;  but  how  can  you  show 
him  that  it  is  not  true? 

Mark.  By  declaring  to  him  my  real  purpose  for  com¬ 
ing:  I  am  here  to  ask  for  the  hand  of  his  ward,  Alice  Tay- 
lor. 

Edward.  Well,  perhaps  that  will  do;  though  he  will 
probably  imagine  it  a  pretense.  But  I  admire  your  choice, 


4 


A  BOLD  STRATAGEM. 


old  fellow;  Alice  is  charming — and  her  sister  Annie,  irre¬ 
sistible. 

Mark.  Herself,  or  her  fortune? 

Edward.  Both.  Of  course  you  know  that  I  would  not 
marry  for  money — 

Mark.  Of  course  not! 

Edward — but  since  she  has  a  fortune  I  have  tried  very 
hard  to  love  her. 

Mark.  Ha,  ha,  ha!  Have  you  been  successful? 

Edward.  Well,  I  have  learned  to  love  her,  but  she  is 
promised  to  another.  Her  father,  who  was  an  intimate 
friend  of  Mr.  Field,  left  to  him  his  large  fortune  to  be 
held  in  trust  for  his  daughters  until  they  married.  If  they 
married  without  their  guardian’s  consent,  they  should  not 
receive  a  dollar;  and,  moreover,  they  promised  their  father 
on  his  death -bed  not  to  marry  against  the  wishes  of  Mr. 
Field. 

Mark.  Does  Field  object  to  you? 

Edward.  Not  that;  but  he  has  already  promised  her  to 
his  nephew,  George  Field.  Several  years  ago,  when 
scarcely  more  than  a  child,  she  was  betrothed  to  him. 
This  is  his  reward  for  acting  as  a  spy  for  his  uncle. 

Mark.  Then  we  both  have  Mr.  Field’s  consent  to  win. 
Let  us  work  together,  and,  if  possible,  win  together. 

Edward.  Agreed!  Now,  Mr.  Field  must  not  find  you 
here,  and  he  will  return  within  an  hour.  You  go  to  that 
little  arbor  which  you  saw  on  the  left  as  you  came  in.  I’ll 
join  you  there  presently,  and  while  we  wait  for  his  com¬ 
ing,  we’ll  form  our  plans. 

[Exit  Mark,  l.] 

Edward.  Now  to  see  my  little  Annie — 

Annie.  [Who  has  just  entered.']  Yours!  Indeed!  How 
long  since? 

Edward.  Ever  since  you  told  me  that  you  love  me. 

Annie.  "When  did  I  tell  you  that? 

Edward.  [. Extravagantly .]  Your  eyes  have  told  me. 
They  are  twin  stars  of  hope,  and  beam  on  me  glad  tidings 
of  promised  happiness. 

Annie.  How  singular!  But  why  did  you  tell  me  to 
keep  away? 


A  BOLD  STRATAGEM.  5 

Edward.  When  did  I  tell  you  that? 

Annie.  [Imitating  him.]  Your  hair  has  told  me.  Your 
bright  locks  are  a  danger  signal,  warning  me  to  keep  off. 
[She  runs  off \  laughing.] 

Edward.  [He  laughs  with  evident  effort ,  until  he  per¬ 
ceives  that  she  has  gone ,  then  stops  suddenly.]  Confound 
my  hair!  I’ll  shave  it  off!  No,  I  won’t — I’ll  dye  it!  Not 
that,  either,  for  then  Annie  would  forever  poke  fun  at  the 
great  light  that  would  be  put  out.  Some  kinds  of  bright¬ 
ness  are  very  unfortunate  to  the  owner.  [Nces  Annie  en¬ 
ter.]  Ah,  Annie — 

Annie.  Oh,  Ed.,  Mr.  Field  has  come — 

Edward.  When?  Where?  I  didn’t  hear  him. 

Annie.  I  saw  him  enter  the  gate,  and  ran  up  the  front 
stairs  to  tell  Mrs.  Field.  But  he  came  up  the  back  way 
and  we  met  on  the  landing.  He  told  me  to  say  nothing 
and  sent  me  down.  He  said  he  wanted  to  give  his  wife 
a  pleasant  surprise. 

Edward.  Dear  man!  that’s  so  like  him;  write  to  say 
he  shall  be  at  home  on  such  a  day,  then  come  the  day  be¬ 
fore — just  to  give  his  wife  a  pleasant  surprise;  glide  into 
the  house  as  if  to  steal  his  own  spoons — all  to  give  his 
wife  a  pleasant  surprise.  He’ll  be  shot  for  a  burglar 
some  day,  and  that  will  give  his  wife  a  pleasant  surprise. 
Annie,  you  misunderstood  my  signal  light;  it  is  not  a  dan¬ 
ger  signal,  but  a  guide  to  a  safe  harbor.  Come  to — 

[Enter  George.] 

Annie.  Thank  you,  but  there  are  plenty  of  other  har¬ 
bors — 

George.  That’s  so — here,  for  instance. 

Annie — but  for  the  present  give  me  the  wide  ocean  of 
liberty.  Come,  Ed.,  and  show  me  the  new  flower-bed  you 
promised.  [She  takes  Edward’s  arm.] 

George.  Yes,  show  it  to  me,  too;  I  like  flowers.  [He 
puts  Annie’s  disengaged  hand  withm  his  arm.  As  they 
reach  c.  d.,  ivhich  is  just  wide  enough  f or  two ,  George  is 
forced  to  relinquish  Annie’s  hand.  Edward  looks  back 
at  George  in  smiling  triumph.  George  shakes  his  fist 
at  Edward’s  back  and  then  follows.] 


6 


A  BOLD  STRATAGEM. 


[Enter  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Field,  r.] 

* 

Mr.  F.  [Laughing. \  Ha,  ha,  ha!  Pardon  me,  but  I 
must  laugh — ha,  ha;  ha! 

Mrs.  F,  But  at  what,  my  dear?  I  am  delighted  to  see 
you  so  merry,  but  I  cannot  understand  what  particularly 
excites  your  risibility. 

Mr.  F.  Ha,  ha,  ha!  I  shall  die  with  laughing — it’s  the 
most  comical  thing  in  the  world. 

Mrs.  F.  What  is  comical?  Certainly  nothing  you  have 
told  me.  You  say  that  old  Jones  is  dead,  and,  contrary 
to  expectation,  has  left  his  entire  fortune  to  a  gentleman 
who  is  distantly  related  to  him — now  what  is  comical  in 
this  story? 

Mr.  F.  Ha,  ha,  ha!  It’s  not  the  story — but  you  asked 
me  in  such  a  careless  manner — •“  Do  you  know  the  gen¬ 
tleman?  Is  he  young?” — in  a  tone  of  such  utter  indiffer¬ 
ence,  as  if — ha,  ha,  ha! — as  if  it  was  of  no  earthly  conse¬ 
quence  to  you — ha,  ha  ha! 

Mrs.  F.  Well,  and  of  what  earthly  consequence  can 
it  be  to  me? 

Mr.  F.  None  in  the  least,  of  course;  that’s  the  joke — 
ha,  ha,  ha!  [Aside.]  Shall  I  tell  her? — I  will — I’ll  men¬ 
tion  the  name  suddenly,  and  mark  the  effect  on  her. 
[Aloud.]  Why,  the  fact  is,  you  know  the  gentleman — a 
very  agreeable  young  man — Mr.  Mark  Williams. 

Mrs.  F.  Oh,  indeed. 

Mr.  F.  [Aside.]  The  affected  calmness  of  that,  now! 
“  Oh,  indeed,” — as  if  she  didn’t  care  a  straw  for  him;  but 
— no,  no,  I  see,  she  knew  it  befoie — there  has  been  some 
communication.  [Aloud.]  Have  you  had  any  visitors  in 
my  absence,  my  dear? 

Mrs.  F.  You  know  I  make  it  a  point  of  never  seeing 
any  one  in  your  absence. 

Mr.  F.  Now,  there’s  an  evasion — she  can’t  give  me  a 
direct  answer;  he,  or  somebody  from  him,  has  been  here, 
no  doubt.  [Aloud.]  And  why,  Mrs.  Field,  do  you  make 
it  a  point  of  doing  anything  so  silly?  Why  are  our  friends 
to  be  sent  from  our  door,  because  I  don’t  happen  to  be 
at  home,  as  if  they  were  so  many  thieves  or  swindlers  ? 
What  are  you  afraid  of — or  rather  what  do  you  think  I 


A  BOLD  stratagem:. 


7 


am  afraid  of?  For  there  it  is,  there  it  is,  another  proof 
of  your  ridiculous  fancies,  always  conjuring  up  some  vis¬ 
ionary  evil.  I — ha,  ha,  ha! — I  can’t  help  laughing,  though 
it  annoys  me,  at  the  extreme  folly  of  the  thing.  I,  who 
during  the  three  years  of  our  married  life,  never  laid  the 
slightest  constraint  upon  your  pleasures,  your  inclinations 
—I,  whose  extreme  anxiety  to  escape  so  odious  a  charge — 

Mrs.  F. — Betrays  the  troubled  source  from  whence  it 
springs.  Allow  me  to  repeat,  for  perhaps  the  hundredth 
time  since  our  marriage,  that  being  as  anxious  to  avoid 
affording  you  a  pretense  for  jealousy,  as  you  are  to  escape 
the  suspicion  of  entertaining  it,  the  unlimited  freedom,  to 
which  you  allude,  has  ever  been  and  ever  will  be,  until 
your  nature  changes,  the  most  severe  restriction  that  can 
be  imposed  upon  my  actions. 

Mr.  F.  Very  well,  madam,  as  you  please.  But  my 
reputation  shall  not  suffer  for  your  folly.  I  will  throw 
my  doors  open — they  shall  never  be  shut,  night  or  day. 
I  will  write  to  Mark  Williams,  madam,  Mark  Williams, 
the  gentleman  whom  you  evidently  think  I  fear;  I’ll  in¬ 
vite  him  to  my  table,  go  abroad  as  soon  as  he  comes,  and 
leave  you  to  do  the  honors.  I’ll — 


[Enter  Edward.] 

Edward.  Mr.  Mark  Williams. 

Mr.  F.  [ Aside .]  I  knew  it — I  knew  he  was  here!  My 
wife — her  confusion  is  evident.  [Aloud  to  Edward.]  Show 
Mr.  Williams  in  immediately;  I’m  delighted  to  see  him. 

[Enter  Mark  Williams.] 

My  dear  Williams,  this  is  an  unexpected  pleasure,  ha,  ha, 
ha!  and — the  most  curious  coincidence  possible;  would 
you  believe  it — I  was,  at  the  moment  of  your  arrival,  tell¬ 
ing  Mrs.  Field  that  I  intended  writing  to  you,  and  re¬ 
questing  the  pleasure  of  your  company  a  few  days — ha, 
ha,  ha! 

Mark.  [ Aside .]  Here’s  a  reception! 

Edward.  [Aside.]  So  civil!  Then  there’s  no  hope. 

[Exit.] 

Mrs.  F.  [Aside.]  Laughing  again — then  he’s  misera¬ 

ble. 


8 


A  BOLD  STRATAGEM. 


Mr.  F.  [Aside.]  They  dar’n’t  trust  themselves  to  look 
at  each  other — a  glance  of  the  eye  would  speak  volumes, 
and  flash  conviction  on  me  at  once.  I’ll  make  ’em  look 
— if  they  are  agitated — I —  [Aloud.]  Mrs.  Field,  Mr. 
Mark  Williams,  my  dear.  [Mrs.  F.  and  Mark  bow 
politely ,  free  from  embarassment .]  Admirably  acted  ! 
Not  the  slightest  emotion  perceivable!  The  most  brazen¬ 
faced  thing  I  ever  saw! 

Mrs.  F.  I  have  to  congratulate  Mr.  Williams,  I  be¬ 
lieve,  upon  the  accession  to  some  considerable  property. 

Mark.  Indeed,  madam,  I  do  not  consider  it  a  subject 
for  congratulation.  The  rightful  heir  has  been  most  un¬ 
justly  deprived  of  it,  and.as  soon  as  the  forms  of  the  law 
will  permit,  I  shall  restore  it  to  him. 

Mrs.  F.  [Aside.']  Noble  young  man!  How  provoking 
that  Richard’s  folly  should  deprive  Alice  of  such  a  hus¬ 
band!  [Sighs 

Mr.  F.  [Starting.]  My  wife  sighed! 

Mark.  I  am  anxious  to  explain  the  object  of  this  early 
visit.  May  I  ask  a  few  minutes’  private  conversation? 

Mr.  F.  Certainly,  my  dear  sir,  command  me.  [Aside.] 
He  is  anxious  to  explain — he  feels  I  must  suspect.  [Aloud.] 
Will  you  walk  into  my  study — my  den,  as  I  call  it?  You 
must  be  hungry  after  your  long  ride.  My  dear,  will  you 
kindly  order  refreshments  in  the  dining  room? 

Mark.  None  for  me,  I  beg  of  you,  Mrs.  Field.  [Lay¬ 
ing  his  hand  on  her  arm.] 

Mr.  F.  [Aside.]  He  touched  her  hand!  [Aloud.]  You’ll 
remain  to  dinner  then? 

Mark.  Really,  I — 

Mr.  F.  I’ll  hear  no  excuses,  and  Mrs.  Field  will  feel 
slighted.  This  way,  Mr.  Williams. 

[Exeunt  Mark  and  Mr.  Field.] 

Mrs.  F.  What  shall  I  do?  Richard’s  jealousy  grows 
worse  and  worse.  I  have  not  a  friend,  not  an  acquaint¬ 
ance,  that  he  does  not  regard  with  suspicion  and  distrust. 


[Enter  Alice.] 

Alice.  Oh,  Mrs.  Field,  Edward  tells  me  that  Mark  is 
here  and  that  he  has  sought  an  interview  with  my 
guardian. 


A  BOLD  STRATAGEM. 


9 


Mrs.  F.  Yes,  and  I  have  no  doubt  the  interview  con¬ 
cerns  you. 

Alice.  Of  course  the  answer  will  be  yes!  Oh,  I  am 
so  happy! 

Mrs.  F.  Do  not  be  too  sure.  You  know  how  insanely 
jealous  Richard  is;  he  imagines  that  Mr.  Williams  asks 
for  your  hand  only  that,  as  your  lover,  he  may  be  able  to 
see  me  often  without  arousing  suspicion. 

Alice.  Ridiculous! 

Mrs.  F.  So  it  is,  but  not  therefore  less  disagreeable. 
However,  you  will  soon  know  the  result.  [Goes  up.] 

Alice.  How  absurd!  With  all  his  foolish  fancies  he 
cannot  be  such  an  imbecile  as  to  imagine — or  suppose  it 
is  true?  Mrs.  Field  is  still  young  and  handsome,  and 
Mark  has  always  admired  her.  Can  he  be  so  base,  so 
false — oh  dear!  I  have  such  queer  sensations — I — 

[Enter  Field.] 

Mr.  F.  [. Aside .]  I  got  rid  of  him  nicely.  His  plan 
was  too  evident;  he  saw  that  I  penetrated  it,  and  retired 
in  confusion. 

Mrs.  F.  [In  low  tone  to  Alice.]  Mark  is  crossing  the 
lawn  with  Edward.  You  can  meet  him  by  going  to  the 
side  door.  [. Exit .] 

Alice.  [ Aside .]  Meet  him!  I  won’t.  The  mean,  de¬ 
ceitful  thing,  I  won’t  speak  to  him  again — unless — unless 
it’s  not  true — oh,  there  he  is!  [She  runs  off \  l.  | 

Mr.  F.  They  communicate  with  each  other  and  then 
go,  without  a  word  to  me!  No  desire,  no  curiosity  to 
know  what  Williams  had  to  say!  That  confirms  my  sus¬ 
picions.  They  have  gone  to  meet  him.  I,  too,  will  be 
there.  Ha,  ha,  ha!  They  little  think  that  I  know  their 
secret.  But  let  them  beware,  for  I  shall  not  sleep  until 
I  have  absolute  proof  of  my  wife’s  guilt  or  innocence. 

[Exit.] 


Curtail. 


10 


A  BOLD  STRATAGEM. 

✓ 

ACT  II. 

SCENE. — Lawn  before  Richard  Field’s  house.  Veran¬ 
da  at  back,  from  which  a  door ,  c.,  opens  into  the  house. 
Chairs  on  veranda.  Trees ,  r.  and  l. 

[Mark  and  Edward  discovered .] 

Mark.  All  is  lost,  Ed.  The  old  fellow  rejected  me, 
positively  rejected  me;  said  that  he  could  not  think  of 
letting  Alice  marry  any  man  who  speculates.  I  offered 
to  give  up  speculating.  Thereupon  he  said  that  he  would 

five  his  consent  if  I  abstained  from  speculating  one  year. 

accepted  this  condition  gladly,  but  begged  him  in  the 
meanwhile  to  allow  me  to  visit  his  ward.  At  this  he  looked 
suspicious  and  hinted  that  I  had  some  other  object  beside 
that  of  seeing  Alice. 

Edward.  What  did  you  say  to  that? 

Mark.  Say?  I  told  him  that  he  was  cruel  to  his  ward 
and  unjust  to  his  wife;  then  I  could  control  myself  no 
longer,  and  left  in  a  rage.  But  I  must  see  Alice  before 
I  go.  Can’t  you  contrive  an  interview? 

Edward.  Let  me  see — yes,  I  have  it.  His  precious 
nephew  is  watching  us  now,  so  you  must  pretend  to  start 
for  the  city.  Near  the  end  of  the  hedge  you  will  find  an 
opening;  enter  there,  and  remain  in  the  summer-house 
until  I  rejoin  you.  Leave  the  rest  to  me. 

Mark.  I’ll  rely  on  you.  Did  you  give  Alice  my  note? 
Edward.  Not  yet;  here  it  is.  I  have  a  plan.  I’ll  con¬ 
trive  to  let  it  fall  into  the  governor’s  hands.  He  will  read 
it  and  see  that  you  are  in  earnest  in  your  attentions  to 
Alice.  Perhaps  thereby  we  can  overcome  his  objections. 
But  are  you  sure  that  it  is  explicitly  addressed  to  her? 

Mark.  Perfectly.  It  is  directed  to  her;  and  in  it  I 
call  her  “  my  own  Alice.”  Could  anything  be  plainer? 

Edward.  That  will  do.  I’ll  tell  Annie  what  we  want, 
and  she’ll  help  us  out.  [. Exeunt ,  l.] 

\Enter  Richard  Field,  c.] 

Mr.  F.  The  more  I  think  on  this  business,  the  more  I 
am  puzzled.  Can  I  be  wrong?  Can  Mark  Williams  go 


A  BOLD  STRATAGEM. 


11 


so  far  as  to  ask  for  Alice’s  hand  merely  to  be  near  my 
wife?  It  seems  improbable;  and  yet  I  can’t  forget  that 
whenever  he  has  seen  them  together  his  admiring  glances 
have  always  been  directed  towards  my  wife.  Were  I  to 
consent,  he  could  call  at  my  house  whenever  he  might 
wish.  No,  ’tis  better  as  it  is;  he  has  his  answer,  and  is 
gone. 

[ Enter  George,  r.] 

George.  Oh,  frightful,  uncle!  I’ve  been  watching  to 
catch  you  alone. 

Mr.  F.  Eh?  Why — what — what  news?  Some  trifle 
or  other  about  Annie,  I  suppose.  I  wonder  that  you  are 
not  ashamed  to  let  people  see  your  silly  jealousy. 

George.  Not  I!  I  say  to  all  the  world  I’m  jealous, 
and  I  say  to  you  that  I  am  jealous  of  that  brother-in-law 
of  yours — 

Mr.  F.  Edward?  What  of  him?  \ Aside.']  I  want  an 
excuse  to  get  rid  of  him. 

George.  I  caught  him  kissing  Annie  this  morning. 

Mr.  F.  The  rascal!  And  knowing  that  she  is  betrothed 
to  you!  I  cannot  allow  in  my  house  a  man  of  such  loose 
moral  principles.  I  shall  send  him  away — 

George.  Oh,  my  dear  uncle,  you  are  so  kind!  See, 
there  he  is  now — he  gives  her  a  letter. 

Mr.  F.  A  letter! 

George.  Yes,  and  it’s  the  same  that  I  saw  Mark  Wil¬ 
liams  have. 

Mr.  F  [Aside.]  Should  it  be  to  my  wife!  [Aloud.] 
Stand  aside,  stand  aside. 

George.  I’ll  have  it;  I  will  have  it. 

[Hushing  Jorward.] 

Mr.  F.  No,  no;  hush!  [Holding  him  backh] 

[Enter  Annie  with  a  note ,  l.] 

Annie.  [Aside.]  Ah,  there  they  are!  And  now  to  let 
my  guardian  see  it  and  take  it,  as  Edward  bade  me. 

[Field  and  George  approach.] 

George.  [Snatching  it.]  Traitress!  [Tears  it  open.] 

Annie.  Don’t  do  that;  it  is  not  for  you.  Give  it  to 
me.  [Snatches  at  and  tears  it.] 


Al 


II 


12 


A  BOLD  STRATAGEM. 


Mr.  F.  Stay,  stay;  what  are  you  about? 

[All  three  struggle  for  it,  and  it  is  torn  to  pieces.\ 

George.  I  know  it  is  not  for  me,  but  you  shall  never 
read  a  line  of  it. 

[ Tears  his  part  of  the  note  and  stamps  on  it.'] 

Annie.  That’s  right — storm,  do.  It  is  not  written  to 
me,  but  to  Alice. 

Mr.  F.  [. Looking  at  piece  in  his  hand.]  It  is  so  di¬ 
rected,  certainly. 

Annie.  And  I  shall  tell  her  at  once  what  you  have 
done  with  it.  [Exit.] 

George.  I’ll  find  out  now.  [Picks  up  the  pieces.] 

Mr.  F.  What  are  you  about  there? 

George.  Picking  up  the  bits  to  join  them,  and — 

Mr.  F.  Don’t  be  a  fool.  Let  them  alone.  Why  don’t 
you  let  them  alone  when  I  tell  you?  There’s  another 
piece  there — I  suppose  you’ll  pick  that  up,  too — ha,  ha, 
ha!  Was  there  ever  such  a  booby?  Here,  give  them  to 
me. 

George.  Sir! 

Mr.  F.  Give  them  to  me  this  minute.  [Snatching  the 
pieces.]  And  now  leave  them — you’ll  only  see  something 
to  make  you  miserable — 

George.  But  then — 

Mr.  F,  Go  away,  I  tell  you — you  stupid,  suspicious, 
teasing,  troublesome  idiot.  [Exit  George.  Field  looks 
around  to  see  that  he  is  alone.]  Now,  then,  for  it! 

[Dr  axes  forward  chair  and  arranges  pieces  on  it.] 

[Enter  Edward,  l.] 

Edward.  [Aside.]  That  foolish  nephew  of  his  has 
nearly  spoiled  everything.  I  hope  that  he  will  be  able 
to  make  it  out. 

Ur.  F.  Ah,  that’s  it.  [Reading.]  “  My  own  Alice, 
since  you  permit  me  to  call  you  so.”  There,  there!  It’s 
my  wife  he  writes  to,  and  she  has  desired  him  to  call  her 
by  that  name,  for  fear  the  notes  should  be  intercepted. 

Edward.  [Aside.]  Now,  who  could  have  thought  it? 

Mr.  F.  [Reading.]  “  I  am  near  you,  but  must  remain 
concealed  for  the  present.  I  burn  to  fold  you  to  my 


A  BOLD  STRATAGEM. 


13 


heart,  but  the  jealousy  of  Mr.  Field  must  not  be  awakened.” 
There,  then,  is  not  that  proof  ? 

Edward.  It’s  quite  hopeless;  the  man’s  incurable. 

[Exit,  l.] 

Mr.  F.  My  surmises  were  correct — he  loves  my  wife. 
An,  there  she  is!  Now,  if  I  can  only  catch  her  with  the 
rascal.  [Exit,  c.] 

Enter  Mrs.  F.  and  Alice,  r.] 

Mrs.  F.  My  dear  child,  do  not  despair  yet.  Your  lover 
has  brains  and  pluck.  Depend  upon  it,  he  will  not  be 
thwarted  in  his  desires.  He  is  coming — leave  us  together 
a  few  minutes — 

Alice.  But  why  alone?  I  should  like  to  speak  to 
Mark  myself.  And — and — perhaps  it  is  you  he  loves — 

Mrs.  F.  You  silly  girl!  Come,  do  as  I  ask,  and  all 

will  be  well. 

Alice.  [Aside.']  It  doesn’t  look  right.  She  is  hand¬ 
some,  and  perhaps  he  does — but  I’ll  stay  and  watch. 

[Retires  to  r.] 

[Enter  Mark,  l.] 

Mrs.  F.  Ah,  Mr.  Williams,  I  am  glad  you  have  not 
left  without  a  word  with  me — 

[Field  opens  c.  door  cautiously.] 

Mark.  I  could  not.  You  must  know  that  my  affection 
is  not  of  sudden  growth.  My  love  began,  not  with  ac¬ 
quaintance,  but  with  first  sight.  Hitherto  I  have  adored 
and  remained  silent,  but  I  can  do  so  no  longer.  You 
will  not  permit  your  husband’s  jealousy  to  deprive  me  of 
my  beloved — 

Alice.  [Coming  forward.]  Oh,  I  can  bear  this  no 
longer.  So  your  love  for  me  was  a  pretense — a — 

[Enter  Richard  Field,  c.] 

Mrs.  F.  Alice,  you  misunderstand — 

Mr.  F.  But  I  do  not,  madam.  I  have  heard  all.  Sir, 
leave  my  grounds.  If  you  enter  here  again,  I  will  break 
every  bone  in  your  miserable  carcass.  I — I — oh,  I  shall 
go  mad!  [Exit,  running.] 


14 


A  BOLD  STRATAGEM. 


[Enter  Edward.] 

Mrs.  F.  All  is  lost  now,  indeed. 

Mark.  How  could  they  so  misunderstand?  Alice  is 
as  unreasonable  as  her  guardian. 

Edward.  Oh,  don’t  despair  yet!  I  have  another 
plan.  By  a  bold  stratagem  we  may  be  victors  yet. 

Mrs.  F.  What  is  your  plan?  * 

Edward.  Why,  this:  Since  they  are  so  absurdly 
jealous,  turn  the  tables  on  them;  you  be  jealous  of  your 
husband,  and  Mark  i  Alice. 

Mrs.  F.  Just  th6  thing!  If  Mr.  Williams  will  assist 
me — 

Mark.  With  all  my  heart. 

Mrs.  F.  Then  come;  we’ll  arrange  our  plan,  and  put 
it  into  instant  execution.  [Exeunt?] 

[Enter  Alice  and  Annie.] 

Alice.  Oh,  Annie,  I  cannot  think  that  Mark  is  false. 
He  looks  so  noble  and  so  true — it  must  be  a  mistake. 

Annie.  Oh,  of  course,  your  dear  Mark  is  an  angel! 
You  had  such  good  proof  of  his  angelic  qualities  a  few 
minutes  ago!  Edward  doesn’t  amount  to  much,  but  I 
wouldn’t  exchange  him  for  fifty  Mark  Williams.  Such 
as  he  is,  he  is  all  mine. 

Alice.  Indeed!  I  can  assure  you  that  no  one  cares  to 
exchange  with  you. 

Annie.  Here  comes  your  noble  lord — I’ll  leave  you  to 
him  and  felicity.  [Exit.] 

[Enter  Mark.] 

Alice.  [Aside.]  ’Tis  he! 

Mark.  [Aside.]  Yes,  ’tis  she — now  for  a  touch  of  the 
pathetics.  [Aloud.]  Alice ! 

Alice.  What,  sir!  you  here  still,  after  my  guardian’s 
prohibition? 

Mark.  Yes,  Alice.  I  have  sought  this  interview — the 
dreadful  truth  has  flashed  upon  my  brain,  and  I  could 
not  leave  you  forever  until  I  had  pointed  out  to  you  the 
precipice  on  the  brink  of  which  you  so  unconsciously 
stand. 


•  •J-.vy  •  '  . 


A  BOLD  STRATAGEM.  15 

Alice.  [. Alarmed .]  What  mean  you? 

Mark;  Yes,  Alice;  I  now  see  through  the  mystery  of 
my  refusal  by  your  guardian.  It  is  but  too  plain — his 
pretended  jealousy  of  his  excellent  wife  is  a  mere  mask, 
under  which  he  conceals  the  deformity  of  his  own  vices. 
I  will  not  return  your  unjust  suspicions  of  me  by  harbor¬ 
ing  for  a  moment  the  frightful  thought  that  you  encour¬ 
age  his  disgraceful  attentions — but — 

Alice.  His  attentions!  His!  Why  Mark— Mr.  Wil¬ 
liams,  I  should  say — what  can  you  allude  to? 

Mark.  Ah,  Miss  Taylor!  beware,  beware,  while  it  is 
time!  All  ties  are  broken  between  us;  your  guardian’s 
cruelty  and  your  injustice  have  sundered  hearts  That 
death  only  should  have  divided.  Common  humanity 
alone  has  prompted  me  to  this  step.  Alas!  that  eyes  so 
bright  as  those — stars  that  seemed  kindled  but  to  light 
to  happiness,  should  be  fated  to  mislead  and  destroy. 
[Aside.]  Pathos  and  perspiration!  Tragedy ’s  warm 
work  in  the  dog-days. 

Alice*  Mr.  Williams,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand. 

Mark.  I  say  those  eyes  have  led  your  guardian  as¬ 
tray. 

Alice.  My  guardian! 

Mark.  He  loves  you,  unfortunate  girl. 

Alice.  Loves  me!  Mr.  Williams,  this  is  an  insult. 

Mark.  Infatuated  girl!  I  have  spoken,  and  I  am  gone. 
I  have  fulfilled  the  last  trying  duty  imposed  upon  me  by 
expiring  affection.  I  have  set  you  on  your  guard — I  care 
not  for  your  indignation — I  shall  not  stay  to  hear  your 
reproaches;  break,  ere  it  is  too  late,  the  bonds  which  are 
invisibly  entwining  you!  Argue  with  the  miserable  old 
man  whom  your  charms  have  demented,  and  restore  him 
to  his  unfortunate  wife!  Adieu,  adieu  forever! 

[Rushes  out.\ 

Alice.  Stay,  sir,  stay!  Gone,  really  gone!  I  am 
thunderstruck!  What  could  have  caused  such  an  absurd 
belief.  Suspected  of  being  the  object  of  a  married  man’s 
attention,  my  guardian!  I’m  horrified!  I  can’t  stay 
another  hour  under  his  roof.  I  must  speak  to  him  in¬ 
stantly.  [Exit.'] 


10 


A  BOLD  STRATAGEM. 


[Enter  Edward.] 

Edward.  Cleverly  done,  by  jingo!  And  now  to  catch 
this  precious  nephew. 

[ Enter  George.] 

Edward.  [Aside.]  No,  no,  no!  I  cannot  bear  the 
thought,  though  he  is  my  rival,  and  though  my  hopes  are 
all  dashed  to  earth;  still,  I  cannot  bear  to  see  him  so  cru¬ 
elly  imposed  upon.  Poor  George! 

George.  [Aside.]  Eh,  what’s  that? 

Edward.  [Aside.]  Wretched  man!  Alas!  he  little 
dreams  that  his  uncle  merely  consents  to  his  marrying 
Annie  in  order  that  he  may  more  easily  carry  on  his  base 
designs  against  the  peace  and  honor  of  his  ward! 

George.  [Aside.]  Oh  heavens! 

Edward.  [Aside.]  But  how  can  I  give  him  a  hint  of 
the  misfortune  that  hangs  over  him?  His  suspicious  na¬ 
ture  will  make  him  reject  any  communication  of  mine  as 
a  scandalous  tale.  Oh,  could  he  but  know  how  truly  I 
pity  him! 

George.  [Aside.]  Oh! 

Edward.  [Aside.]  But  no,  he  would  not  believe  me, 
and  therefore  the  fatal  secret  must  remain  buried  in  this 
bosom  forever.  [Going.] 

George.  Stay,  Edward,  stay!  I  do  believe — 

Edward.  Plah,  you  there,  George!  I  trust  that  you 
have  not  overheard  anything.  In  my  distress,  I  fear  I 
spoke  aloud,  and — 

George.  I  heard  enough!  But  I’ll  be  revenged — 

Edward.  Nay,  do  not  be  desperate.  Remember  he  is 
your  uncle — 

George.  No,  no.  I’ll  disown  him — I’ll  not  eat  an¬ 
other  crust  of  his  bread. 

Edward.  What  a  noble  spirit!  Ah,  George,  how 
much  I  have  mistaken  you.  Nothing  elicits  the  fine 
points  of  a  man’s  character  like  adversity.  But,  oh  wo¬ 
man!  woman!  that  a  girl  blessed  with  the  love  of  such  a 
man  should  yield  to  the  temptations  of  an  aged  libertine. 

George.  The  jilt! — I’ll  go  to  them  at  once. 

Edward.  Stay,  you  have  no  proof  but  my  bare  asser- 


A  BOLD  STRATAGEM. 


17 


tion.  But,  alas!  it  is  in  my  power  to  convince  the  most 
skeptical  of  men.  With  shame  I  speak  it — I  was  the 
innocent  bearer  of  his  written  entreaties. 

George.  You? 

Edward.  I.  Little  imagining  its  contents,  I  consented 
to  be  the  bearer  of  a  letter  from  him  to  Annie. 

George.  A  letter? 

Edward.  Yes;  containing  a  declaration,  appointing  a 
meeting — 

George.  Damnation ! 

Edward.  It  nearly  fell  into  your  hands. 

George.  It  did? 

Edward.  Yes;  at  a  distance  I  beheld  you  snatch  it 
from  her,  but — 

George.  I  recollect — here — on  this  very  spot. 

Edward.  It  is  but  too  true.  Your  uncle  obtained  part 
of  it  and  you  destroyed  the  rest. 

George.  I  did;  he  wouldn’t  let  me  see  the  pieces; 
took  them  from  me,  and  called  me  a  jealous  blockhead! 
I’ll  expose  him — I’ll — 

Edward.  The  meeting  was  to  be  in  his  study.  If  you 
were  to  steal  down  there  and  find  them  together. 

George.  I’ll  do  it — 

Edward.  And  if  I  can  hit  upon  a  pretext  to  be  there 
myself,  I’ll  assist  you  to  expose  him. 

George.  Thanks,  thanks,  my  dear  friend;  thanks!  I 
will  be  there  on  time — let  him  look  out.  [Exit.] 

Curtain. 


ACT  III. 

SCENE. — The  Library.  Field  discovered ,  seated. 

Mr.  F.  I’ve  found  her  out,  and  I’m  miserable.  For 
three  years  I  have  suspected,  and  now  I  have  discovered 
what  I  long  dreaded  to  knew — my  wife  is  not  true  to  me.  * 
Oh  that  I  had  not  suspected,  that  I  had  not  heard!  Far 
better  the  happiness  of  ignorance  than  the  misery  of 
knowledge.  [Knock  at  door .]  Who’s  there? 


18 


A  BOLD  STRATAGEM. 


[ Enter  Annie,  opening  door  cautiously .] 


Annie.  Mr.  Field — 

Me.  F.  What  brings  you  here?  What  do  you  want? 
Go  away — I  don’t  want  to  be  interrupted. 

Annie.  But  if  you  please,  Mr.  Field;  you  always  told 
me  to  ask  questions  when  I  don’t  understand — 

Mr.  F.  What  do  you  not  understand? 

Annie.  Oh,  something  very  strange  indeed! 

Mr.  F.  [Aside.]  Perhaps  she  can  tell  me  something 
about  my  wife.  [Aloud,]  Well,  come  in,  and  shut  the 
door.  Now  speak — what  is  it? 

Annie.  Indeed,  I’m  so  frightened  I  hardly  can  speak. 

Mr.  F.  [. Excitedly .]  Pshaw!  don’t  be  frightened;  be 
calm  and  collected,  as  you  see  I  am,  now  speak. 

Annie.  Well,  then —  [Aside.]  I  don’t  know  what  to 
say  to  keep  him  talking  until  somebody  comes.  [Aloud.] 
In  the  first  place,  you  must  promise  not  to  tell  any  mortal 
soul  how  you  came  to  know  it. 

Mr.  F.  Yes,  yes,  yes — of  course,  of  course! 

Annie.  Because  it  would  be  the  ruin  of  me,  if — 

Mr.  F.  I’ll  be  cautious — I  give  you  my  word  of  honor 
nobody  shall  know.  So  go  on;  what  have  you  seen  and 
heard? 

Annie.  Dear  me!  how  I  do  tremble! 

Mr.  F.  Confound  your  trembling!  So  do  I  —  with 
curiosity.  Now  speak,  do, 

Annie.  Well,  then,  Mr.  Field,  you  must  know — but  if 
you  are  very,  very  busy,  I’ll  come  some  other  time. 

Mr.  F.  No,  no,  no!  Pm  not  busy;  go  on — go  on. 


[Knock  at  the  door.] 

Annie.  [Aside.]  Ah,  it’s  all  right.  [Aloud.]  Oh  dear, 
there’s  some  one  at  the  door!  What  shall  I  do?  Where 
shall  I  go?  If  anyone  sees  me  here,  it  will  be  known 
who  told  you. 

Mr.  F.  But  you  haven’t  told  me. 

Annie.  It  doesn’t  signify;  it’s  just  the  same  thing — I 
shall  be  ruined.  Let  me  run  in  in  here. 

[Opening  closet  door.] 

Mrs.  F.  In  there— no! 

[. Knocking  again.] 


A  BOLD  STRATAGEM. 


10 


Annie.  There,  they’re  knocking  again — I’ll  never  open 
my  lips  if  you  don’t. 

Mr.  F.  Well,  well,  in  there,  in  with  you!  I’ll  soon  get 
rid  of  them,  whoever  they  are.  [Puts  Annie  in  closet .] 
Who’s  there?  What  do  you  want? 

Alice.  [Without.']  Oh,  Mr.  Field,  I  must  speak  with 
you  at  once. 

Mr.  F.  [Aside.]  Alice!  [Aloud.]  Can’t  you  come  by 
and  by?  I’m  very  busy — I — 

Alice.  No,  sir,  no;  my  business  will  admit  of  no  delay 
— I  must  have  an  immediate  explanation. 

Mr.  F.  [Opening  door.]  What’s  all  this  about?  Out 
with  it  at  once,  then,  and  be  brief,  for  my  business  is  im¬ 
portant. 

[Enter  Alice.] 

Alice.  Mr.  Field,  I  am  greatly  distressed;  there  are 
reports  about  most  injurious  to  both  our  reputations,  and 
I  lose  no  time  in  requesting  you  to  deny  and  suppress 
them. 

Mr.  F.  Reports!  Reports!  What  sort  of  reports? 

Alice.  Such,  sir,  as  bring  tears  of  shame  and  indigna¬ 
tion  into  my  eyes.  It  is  said  that  your  refusal  of  Mr. 
Williams  arises  from — oh,  I  can’t  utter  the  vile  insinua¬ 
tion! 

Mr.  F.  You  alarm  me,  Miss  Taylor.  Speak  out,  I  beg 
of  you.  What  do  they  dare  to  insinuate? 

Alice.  That  you  have  an  affection  for  me  that  is  not  a 
father’s  or  a  friend’s — for  me,  your  ward.  See  what  your 
extraordinary  conduct  has  subjected  me  to! 

Mr.  F.  By  all  that’s  exasperating!  They’re  slanderers, 
base  slanderers.  I  accused  of  loving  the  daughter  of 
my  dearest  friend!  No,  no,  it’s  absurd.  Alice,  some  one 
has  been  lying.  I  defy  the  tongue  of  scandal  to  bring 
one  incident  against  the  fair  name  of  Richard  Field. 

[Annie  coughs  in  closet.] 

Alice.  What’s  that? 

Mr.  F.  That!  What? 

Alice.  Did  you  hear  nothing? 

Mr.  F.  No;  did  you? 


20 


A  BOLD  STRATAGEM. 


Alice.  I  could  have  sworn  some  one  coughed  in  this 
room. 

Mr.  P  Coughed!  oh,  to  be  sure;  was  that  all?  Yes, 
I  coughed.  [Coughs.]  I  have  a  terrible  cold.  [Aside.] 
If  that  girl  coughs  again  she  will  be  discovered,  and  then 
they  will  believe  anything. 

Alice.  Well,  your  unreasonable  objections  to  the  pro¬ 
posal  of  Mr.  Williams  have  placed  me  at  least  in  a  very 
annoying  situation;  and  however  confident  you  may  feel 
in  the  stability  of  your  own  reputation,  I  must  entreat 
you,  for  my  sake,  to  listen  to  reason.  I  am  convinced 
that  I  was  unjustly  jealous  and  suspicious,  and  confess 
my  error.  Won’t  you  write  to  him  and  confess  yours V 
Give  your  permission  to  our  marriage,  and  you  will  atone 
for  your  error. 

Mr.  F.  What,  apologize  to  Mark  Williams  after  that 
disgraceful  scene! 

[Annie  coughs  again.] 

Alice.  There,  again!  You  didn’t  talk  that  time. 

Mr.  F.  [Aside.]  Distraction!  [Aloud.]  No,  no;  that 
was  some  one  else — in  the  garden,  I  suppose — I — Miss 
Taylor,  you  have  my  answer — and  so  has  Mr.  Williams. 
I  am  busy;  I  would  be  alone;  I  must  entreat  you  to — 

Alice.  But  I  cannot  take  that  answer!  You  force  me, 
you  compel  me  to  say — that — that — oh,  what  a  cruel  situ¬ 
ation  ! 

Mr.  F..  [Aside.]  It  is  a  cursed  situation!  They’ll  drive 
me  mad,  between  them.  [Aloud.]  Alice,  don’t  be  silly, 
don’t  cry,  don’t  give  way  so. 

Alice.  [Sobbing,  and  flinging  herself  into  the  arm 
chair.]  Oh,  oh,  oh!  I  shall  be  ruined! 

Mr.  F,  [Aside.]  So  shall  I! 

Alice.  My  heart  will  break!  I  feel  it!  I  shall  faint 
— I’m  sure  I  shall. 

Mr.  F.  [Aside.]  Would  to  heaven  she  would!  I  could 
let  the  other  out  before  she  came  to  again.  [Knock  at 
the  door.]  Some  one  else!  [Aloud.]  Alice,  arise  di¬ 
rectly!  What  will  people  think? 

Alice.  You  don’t  care  what  they  think. 

Mr.  F.  I  do,  I  do!  [Knock.]  Who’s  there? 


A  BOLD  STRATAGEM. 


21 


[Enter  Edward.] 


Edward.  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  must  speak  with 
you  immediately. 

Mr.  F.  Not  now — I’m  engaged. 

Edward.  Alice  here!  Then  it’s  ail  true! 

Mr.  F.  Ten  thousand  furies1  What  do  you  mean  by 
“true”?  I’ll  make  you  dance  for  this  impertinence! 

Edward.  Unhappy  old  man! 

Mr.  F,  Infernal  young  scoundrel!  Will  you  go  out? 

Edward.  No,  sir;  not  until  I  have  said  what  I  came  to 
say.  Your  wife — my  sister — is  coming  here. 

Mr.  F  Well,  what  of  that? 

Edward.  Everything.  She  is  my  sister,  and  I  do  not 
want  her  happiness  destroyed  forever  by  what,  after  all, 
may  be  a  fatal  mistake. 

Mr.  F.  Fatal  nonsense!  What  do  you  mean? 

Edward.  Your  wife  has  the  unfortunate  idea  that  you 
are  in  love  with  Alice. 

Mr.  F.  There,  there,  there!  I  am  lost! 

Edward.  Wretched  pair,  what  can  I  do  to  save  you? 

Mr.  F.  Save  us?  Save  yourself,  you  villain,  or  I’ll 
knock  your  brains  out! 

Edward.  She  comes!  Let  me  beseech  you,  for  your 
own  sakes — 

Alice.  Mrs.  Field!  I  suspected  her;  what  charity  can 
I  hope  for  at  her  hands?  Where  shall  I  fly? 

Edward.  Suppose  you  run  in  here  a  few  minutes. 
[Steps  toward  closet.'] 

Mr.  F.  [Jumping  before  it.]  No,  no,  no!  Let  her 
come;  let  all  the  world  come.  Conscious  innocence  has 

nothing  to  fear. 

Edward.  Innocence!  Did  conscious  innocence  pro¬ 
tect  your  wife  against  your  jealousy? 

Mr.  F.  Jealousy! 

Alice.  It’s  too  true. 

Edward.  Yes,  sir;  jealousy.  She  must  not  see  you 
together.  [Steps  to  other  closet.]  Here’s  room  here — 
just  one  moment — 

Mr.  F.  No,  no,  no! 

Edward.  [To  Alice,  who  hesitates.]  Go  in,  there’s  no 


22 


A  BOLD  STRATAGEM. 


danger — only  a  hoax — mum:  \ Pushes  her  in  and  shuts 
door.'] 

\Enter  Mrs.  Field.] 

Mrs.  F.  Edward,  only  Edward!  I’m  too  late,  then! 

Mr.  F.  Too  late  for  what,  madam?  To  what  am  I  to 
attribute  this  intrusion? 

Mrs.  F.  Intrusion,  indeed!  Edward,  please  leave  us 
alone. 

Mr.  F.  Stay,  sir;  stir  not,  I  command  you! 

Mrs.  F.  Oh,  very  well!  With  all  my  heart,  if  you  want 
everybody  to  know  it.  I  have  at  last  found  a  clue  to 
your  conduct.  Your  denial  of  jealousy  was  more  sincere 
than  I  imagined!  I  have  cause  to  wonder  on  what  point 
of  my  behavior  you  could  found  yonr  suspicions.  The 
whole  was  but  a  deep-laid  scheme  to  cloak  your  own  pro¬ 
ceedings.  Mr.  Field,  have  I  deserved  such  treatment? 

Mr.  F.  Go  on,  madam,  go  on!  My  conscience  acquits 
me  of  the  charge. 

Mrs.  F.  The  charge!  Has  anyone,  then,  warned  you 
of  the  discovery  of  your  plans?  or  does  the  conscience, 
to  which  you  allude,  point  out  the  vulnerable  spot?  What 
about  your  ward,  sir,  Alice  Taylor? 

Mr.  F.  Mrs.  Field,  you  have  been  deceived;  or  you 
have  entered  into  a  plot  with  that  precious  brother  of 
yours  to  annoy  me.  For  myself,  I  scorn  to  make  any 
defense. 

Mrs.  F.  Nay,  don’t  misunderstand  me.  I  have  no 
doubt  of  Alice’s  innocence.  But  how  long  would  your 
attentions  allow  her  to  remain  so? 

Mr.  F.  Why,  madam ! 

Mrs.  F.  Will  you  deny  that  you  had  an  appointment 
with  her? 

Mr.  F.  I  will— I  do. 

Mrs,  F.  That  she  has  not  been  seen  to  enter  this  study? 

Mr.  F.  That’s  another  thing.  She  has  been  here,  she 
is  here. 

Mrs.  F.  Here!  and  concealed!  In  this  closet,  no 
doubt — 

Mr.  F.  No,  madam,  not  here — 

Mrs  F.  Where  then? 


A  BOLD  STRATAGEM, 


23 


Alice.  [. 'Running  out  of  closet.']  Here,  but  indeed — 

Mrs.  F.  And  have  you  the  confidence  to  tell  me — 

Mr.  F.  Now,  sir,  if  you  do  not  wish  to  be  thrashed, 
tell  immediately  how  this  young  lady  came  in  that  closet. 

Edward.  Certainly,  sir;  I  will  speak  the  truth,  and 
nothing  but  the  truth. 

Mr.  F„  Well,  sir,  go  on.  Who  put  that  young  lady  in 
the  closet? 

Edward.  I  did. 

Mrs.  F.  You,  and  for  what  reason,  pray? 

Edward.  To  prevent  the  very  scene  which  has  unfor¬ 
tunately  taken  place. 

Mr.  F.  To  cause  it,  you  mean,  you  rascal!  But  go 
on;  and  tell  one  lie,  if  you  dare! 

Edward.  I  scorn  a  lie,  sir.  [ To  Mrs.  F.J  I  came  here 
to  warn  your  husband  of  your  suspicions  and  your  ap- 

F.  Oh,  you  did?  and  why,  pray? 

Mr.  F.  And  who  asked  you  to  do  that? 

Edw’ard.  Perhaps  I  was  wrong,  but  I  did  it  with  good 
intentions.  I  found  Alice  in  tears,  and  Mr.  Field  in  con¬ 
fusion. 

Mrs.  Fo  So,  so,  so! 

Mr.  F.  Well,  what  of  that? 

Mrs.  F.  And  so  you  act  as  a  spy  on  your  own  sister — 
you  are  placed  as  an  outpost  to  warn  my  husband  of  my 
approach — 

Mr.  F.  But,  my  dear  wife — 

Alice.  There,  sir,  you  see  where  you  have  placed  me. 

Mr.  F.  But  Alice — oh,  confound  it — this  is  absurd! 
Must  the  fair  edifice  of  my  reputation  be  hurled  to  earth 
with  a  crash — 

[A  crash  is  heard  in  closet — all  start.] 

Mrs.  F,  What’s  that? 

Mr.  F.  1  say,  with  a  crash! 

Mrs.  F.  With  a  crash,  indeed!  Why,  there’s  some¬ 
body  in  that  closet!  Pray,  did  Edward  conceal  another 
lady  against  your  consent?  [ Opening  door.]  Annie,  as  I 

live! 

Alice.  Annie! 


proach, 

Mrs 


24 


A  BOLD  STRATAGEM. 


Edward.  [  Very  loud. ]  Annie! 

\Enter  George.] 

George.  Annie! 

Mr.  F.  It’s  all  over  with  me. 

Annie.  I  beg  pardon,  but  indeed — and  indeed — 

Mrs.  F,  Silence! 

Annie.  Don’t  be  angry,  George. 

George.  Don’t  come  near  me — I  shall  do  you  harm— 
oh,  you  villain — 

Mr.  F,  So  I  must  bear  all  this,  must  I? 

Alice.  [Aside,  to  whom  Mrs.  Field  has  been  whis¬ 
pering  ]  If  that  is  the  case,  I’ll  help  you  with  all  my 
heart.  [Aloud.~\  Oh,  Mr.  Field,  you  have  a  cough,  have 
you!  a  terrible  cough!  Well,  after  this,  I  shall  believe 
anything. 

Mr.  F.  Appearances,  I  confess,  are  against  me;  whether 
arising  from  plot,  I  cannot  pretend  to  know — 

Mrs.  F.  Oh,  that  evasion! 

Mr.  F.  Confound  it,  madam,  hear  me  speak!  I  say, 
appearances  from  which  a  suspicious  mind  might  certainly 
draw  inferences  anything  but  favorable  to  my  character; 
but,  I  trust,  you  have  too  much  —  too  much  generosity 
to  — 

Mrs.  F.  Really,  Mr,  Field,  you  cannot  expect  me  to 
have  greater  sense  or  generosity  than  my  husband.  Why 
should  I  not  be  led  by  appearances  as  well  as  yourself? 
Why  should  be  deprived  of  the  pleasure,  for  such  you 
seem  to  think  it,  of  jealousy  and  suspicion?  No,  sir; 
for  three  years  I  have  trusted  you  implicitly,  and  if  I  have 
now  lost  my  confidence  in  you,  you  have  yourself  to  thank 
for  it. 

Mr.  F.  I  may  have  been  in  the  wrong — I  say,  I  may 
have  been  in  the  wrong.  You  will  make  me  most  happy 
if  you  can  convince  me  that  my  suspicions  are  as  un¬ 
founded  as  yours, 

Mrs.  F,  It  is  in  your  power  to  convince  both  yourself 
and  me  at  the  same  time.  Give  your  consent  to  Mr.  Wil¬ 
liams,  and  you  will  relieve  us  both  from  doubt  as  to  the 
mutual  affection  of  him  and  Alice.  As  to  Annie,  I  own 
that — 


25 


A  BOLD  STRATAGEM 

Mr.  F.  Oh,  as  to  Annie,  George  shall  marry  her  at 
once — and  then — 

George.  No,  no;  I’ve  done  with  her  and  you.  I  won’t 
sleep  under  your  roof  another  night. 

Mr.  F.  Why,  you  rascal!  do  you  presume  to  hint — 

George.  I  don’t  hint.  I  speak  out.  I  say  you  are  a 
wicked  old  man — 

Mrs.  F.  You  see! 

Annie.  What,  won’t  you  have  me,  George?  Won’t 
you? 

George.  No,  no,  no! 

Mr.  F.  The  fellow’s  mad — stark  mad!  But  who  will 
have  her,  then?  Somebody  must,  for  I  won’t  have  her  on 
my  hands  any  longer. 

Edward.  Well,  to  oblige  you,  and  to  convince  you 
that  I  at  least  have  no  jealousy  in  my  disposition,  I  don’t 
mind  if  I  have  her. 

Mr.  F.  My  dear  Edward! 

George.  You  will? 

Mr.  F.  Turn  that  fellow  out,  turn  him  out  this  minute. 

George.  What,  you  will  really  have  her — after  what — 

Edward.  You  heard  him.  My  dear  George,  you  must 

g°* 

George.  But  I  say — 

Edward.  Say  nothing. 

George.  But  I  must — 

Edward.  Go  out. 

Mr.  F.  Out  with  him.  [. Pushes  him  to  Edward,  who 
pushes  him  toward  door /  Mark  enters ,  and  pushes  him 
out.]  You  may  have  Annie — take  her  and  be  happy. 

Mrs.  F.  And  why  not  make  yourself  happy  by  giving 
Alice  to  the  man  who  loves  her? 

Mr.  F.  Enough!  Mr.  Williams,  there’s  my  ward;  take 
her,  and  say  no  more  about  it. 

Mark.  And  will  Alice,  then,  forgive  the  little  plot 
which  had  her  happiness  for  its  aim? 

Alice  Oh,  Mark,  I  am  ashamed  of  my  folly,  and  would 
rather  ask  your  forgiveness. 

Mr.  F.  Plot!  There  was  a  plot,  then,  to  make  me 
ridiculous? 

Mrs.  F.  No,  my  dear  husband,  to  prevent  your  mak- 


20  A  BOLD  STRATAGEM. 

ing  yourself  so;  your  secret  is  in  the  keeping  of  those 
you  have  rendered  happy;  gratitude  will  seal  their  lips. 
Nothing  but  a  return  of  your  suspicions  can  make  yov 
jealousy  known  to  the  world. 

Mr.  F.  Then  I  am  satisfied.  My  dear  wife,  I  have 
loved  you  so  dearly  that  I  cannot  love  you  more,  but  one 
thing  I  promise:  I  will  no  longer  distrust  you,  but  will 
repose  in  you  complete  confidence,  which,  after  all,  is  the 
highest  proof  of  love. 


Curtain. 


V* 


2 


THE  DRAMATIC  PUBLISHING  COMPANY’S  CATALOGUE 

•  ^ _  _  _____ 


The  American  Amateur  Drama. 


A  collection  of  new  copyrighted  plays,  suitable'for  amateur  and  professional 
performances.  The  acting  is  not  especially  difficult,  and  the  scenery  can  be 
easily  managed.  While  full  of  action,  these  plays  are  not  boisterous,  but  are 
refined  and  elevated  in  tone.  They  are  bright,  interesting  and  contain  not  a  dull 
line.  Before  deciding  on  a  drama  for  amateur  performance,  read  these  plays. 

Aroused  at  Last.  Comedy  in  one  act,  by  Mary  Kyle 
Dallas.  Four  male,  four  female  characters.  Plays  about  forty 
minutes.  One  interior  parlor  scene.  Costumes  of  to-day; 
scene,  New  York  City.  A  play  full  of  brisk  but  refined  action, 
lively  dialogue,  and  the  comedy  possibilities  are  unlimited.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Pondicherry  are  a  successful  business  man  and  his 
fond  wife.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vandernoodle,  a  young  old  Knicker¬ 
bocker  and  his  bride.  Miss  and  Mr.  Wiggins,  a  spinster  from 
Toadfish  Point  and  her  brother,  Celeste,  a  breezy  French 
maid  and  a  young  man  waiter  complete  a  fine  cast  of  characters. 
Price,  15  cents. 

Bloomer  Girls,  or,  Courtship  in  the  Twentieth 

Century.  Satirical  comedy  in  one  act,  by  John  A.  Fraser,  Jr., 
author  “Noble  Outcast,”  “Modern  Ananias,”  “A  Cheerful 
Liar,”  etc.  One  male,  three  female  characters.  One  garden 
scene,  which  may  be  changed  to  an  interior  if  desired.  Plays 
two  hours.  Two  young  women  i n  handsome  bloomer  costumes, 
one  elderly  lady  in  dark  dress  and  a  very  effiminately  attired 
young  man  compose  the  cast  of  characters.  The  dialogue  is 
written  in  Mr.  Fraser’s  best  style — bright  and  refined,  while 
at  the  same  time  it  hits  the  fad  hard.  Price,  15  cents. 

Bold  Stratagem.  Comedy  in  three  acts,  by  Marsden 
Brown.  Four  male,  three  female  characters;  costumes  mod¬ 
ern;  one  exterior,  two  interior  scenes.  Plays  forty-five  min¬ 
utes.  This  sparkling  comedy  is  bright  and  witty,  yet  pure  in 
tone,  having  no  elaborate  costumes  or  difficult  scenery.  Ama¬ 
teurs  will  find  it  just  what  they  want.  Fvery  character  good. 
Fvery  situation  telling.  Price,  15  cents. 

Burglars,  Comedy  in  one  act,  by  Robert  Julian,  author 
of  “Will  You  Marry  Me?”  Two  male,  two  female  characters. 
A  parlor  scene.  Plays  fifteen  minutes.  Costumes  are  suitable 
for  one  lady  and  one  gentleman  in  the  fashion  of  to-day,  for  a 
housemaid’s  pretty  dress  and  a  young  dandy  darkey.  The 
cast  includes  Mrs.  Greene,  afraid  of  burglars;  her  husband, 
brave  when  there  is  no  danger;  Kitty,  afraid  of  no  one,  and 
Toby,  a  darkey,  who  is  hired  to  catch  burglars.  The  situations 
are  new,  and  will  keep  the  audience  roaring  from  the  entrance 
of  Toby  to  the  end.  Price,  15  cents. 


THE  DRAMATIC  PUBLISHING  COMPANY'S  CATALOGUE 


3 


Cheerful  Liar.  Farcical  comedy  in  three  acts,  by  John 
A.  Fraser,  Jr.,  author  of  “Modern  Ananias,”  “Noble  Outcast,” 
“Merry  Cobbler,”  etc.  Five  male,  three  female  characters. 
Plays  tnree  hours.  Three  interior  scenes,  all  easily  arranged. 
Costumes  of  the  day.  A  shrieking  farcical  comedy,  full  of  “go” 
and  new  situations.  Unlike  most  light  pieces,  this  one  has  a 
most  capital  plot,  full  of  entanglements.  It  is  a  comedy  in 
which  any  number  of  specialties  may  be  introduced,  although 
it  was  played  on  the  professional  stage  a  long  season  without 
4  any.  Flora,  Randolph,  Guy,  Hussel  and  Mrs.  Sweetlove  may 
all  sing  and  dance  with  advantage.  Judge  Hussel  is  a  great 
character  part.  The  audacity  as  well  as  cheerfulness  with 
which  he  prevaricates  invariably  “brings  down  the  house.”  In 
the  last  act  where  Flora  dons  a  boy’s  costume  and  the  Judge 
is  dressed  to  captivate,  the  stage  presents  one  of  the  strongest 
comedy  scenes  that  has  ever  been  suggested.  The  book  of 
the  play  gives  the  very  full  stage  directions  for  crosses,  en¬ 
trances,  exits,  etc.,  for  which  Mr.  Fraser’s  plays  are  noted. 
While  prepared  for  amateurs  in  details,  professional  com¬ 
panies  find  this  play  a  good  one  for  the  box  office  as  well  as 
an  artistic  favorite.  Price,  25  cents. 

Delicate  Question.  Comedy  drama  in  four  acts,  by 
John  A.  Fraser,  Jr.,  author  of  “Modern  Ananias,”  “Noble 
Outcast,”  etc.  Nine  male,  three  female  characters.  One  exte¬ 
rior,  two  interior  scenes.  Modern  costumes.  Plays  two  hours. 
If  a  play  presenting  an  accurate  picture  of  life  in  the  rura. 
districts  is  required,  in  which  every  character  has  been  faith¬ 
fully  studied  from  life,  nothing  better  for  the  use  of  amateurs 
than  “A  Delicate  Question”  can  be  recommended.  The  story 
is  utterly  unlike  that  of  any  other  play,  and  deals  with  the 
saloon,  which  it  handles  without  gloves  and  at  the  same  time 
without  a  single  line  of  sermonizing.  What  “Ten  Nights  in  a 
Barroom”  was  to  the  public  of  a  past  generation,  “A  Delicate 
Question”  is  destined  to  be  to  the  present,  although  it  is  far 
from  being  exactly  what  is  known  as  a  “temperance  play.” 
The  plot  is  intensely  interesting,  the  pathetic  scenes  full  of 
beauty,  because  they  are  mental  photographs  from  nature,  and 
the  comedy  is  simply  uproariously  funny.  The  parts,  very 
equally  balanced.  The  scenic  effects  are  quite  simple,  and  by 
a  little  ingenuity  the  entire  piece  may  be  played  in  a  kitchen 
scene.  The  climaxes  are  all  as  novel  as  they  are  effective  and 
the  dialogue  is  as  natural  as  if  the  characters  were  all  real 
people.  Price,  25  cents. 

Food  for  Powder.  Vaudeville  in  two  acts,  by  R.  Andre, 
author  of  “A  Handsome  Cap,”  “Minette’s  Birthday,”  etc. 
Three  male,  two  female  characters.  One  interior  scene.  Plays 
forty  minutes.  Costumes,  French,  of  the  time  of  Napoleon  I. 
This  dainty  and  refined  play  is  full  of  pretty  songs  set  to  famil¬ 
iar  airs,  and  specialty  dances  may  be  introduced.  For  profes¬ 
sional  or  amateur  vaudeville  evenings,  this  will  be  found  just 
the  thing-  for  the  short  drama  which  should  always  form  one 
of  the  features.  Price,  15  cents. 


4 


THE  DRAMATIC  PUBLISHING  COMPANY’S  CATALOGUE 


Handsome  Cap.  Comic  operetta  in  one  act,  by  R.  An¬ 
dre,  author  of  “Food  for  Powder,”  “Minette’s  Birthday,”  etc. 
Three  male,  two  female  characters.  One  cottage  interior  scene. 
Costumes,  of  time  of  George  II..  Plays  forty  minutes.  The 
songs  are  all  written  to  be  sung  to  popular  and  well-known 
airs;  dances  may  be  introduced  without  limit,  although  there 
is  a  real  plot  and  story  carried  to  a  happy  termination.  Bike 
other  plays  by  this  writer,  “A  Handsome  Cap”  is  peculiarly 
suited  to  amateur  and  professional  vaudeville  evenings. 
Price,  15  cents. 

Maud  Muller.  Operetta  in  three  acts,  by  Bffie  W.  Merri- 
man,  author  “Socials,”  “Pair  of  Artists,”  etc.  Three  male, 
two  female  characters.  Budicrous  costumes  and  some  proper¬ 
ty  effects  which  may  be  easily  arranged  but  are  very  amus¬ 
ing.  One  interior,  one  exterior  scene.  Plays  two  hours.  The 
piece  is  arranged  for  a  chorus  to  do  a  good  deal  of  work,  but 
a  distinct  reader  will  be  found  effective.  The  book  of  the 
play  gives  the  most  minute  directions  for  its  production  as  to 
action  and  properties.  The  horse  upon  which  the  judge  rides 
in  the  hay-field  scene  is  represented  by  two  men  covered  by  a 
fur  robe.  The  antics  of  this  horse  may  be  made  as  funny  as 
the  imagination  of  the  director  may  suggest.  The  judge 
should  be  a  spare  man  made  up  to  look  pompous.  Church  so¬ 
cieties,  as  well  as  amateur  clubs,  will  find  this  a  money-mak¬ 
ing  entertainment.  Price,  25  cents. 

Merry  Cobbler.  Comedy  drama  in  four  acts,  by  John  A. 
Fraser,  Jr.,  author  “Bloomer  Girls,”  “Showman’s  Ward.” 
“Modern  Ananias,”  etc.  Six  male,  five  female  characters.  Two 
interior,  two  exterior  scenes.  Modern  costumes.  Plays  two 
hours.  This  romantic  story  of  a  German  emigrant  boy  who 
falls  in  love  with,  and  finally  marries,  a  dashing  Southern 
belle,  is  one  of  the  cleanest  and  daintiest  in  the  whole  reper¬ 
toire  of  the  minor  stage.  The  Merry  Cobbler  is  one  of  the 
type  the  late  J.  K  Emmet  so  loved  to  portray.  Had  the  piece 
been  originally  written  for  the  use  of  amateurs  it  could  not 
have  been  happier  in  its  results,  its  natural  and  mirth-provok¬ 
ing  comedy  combined  wiih  a  strong  undercurrent  of  heart  in¬ 
terest,  rendering  it  a  vehicle  with  which  even  inexperienced 
actors  are  sure  to  be  seen  at  their  best.  The  scenic  effects  are 
of  the  simplest  description  and  the  climaxes,  while  possessing 
the  requisite  amount  of  “thrill”  are  very  easy  to  handle. 
The  author  has  prepared  elaborate  instructions  for  its  produc¬ 
tion  by  amateur  players.  Price,  25  cents. 

Minette’s  Birthday.  Vaudeville  in  one  act,  by  R.  An¬ 
dre,  author  of  “A  Handsome  Cap,”  “Food  for  Powder,”  etc. 
Two  male,  three  female  characters.  Plays  forty-five  minutes. 
One  interior  cottage  scene.  Costumes,  in  fancy  French  peasant 
fashion.  This  is  another  one  of  this  author’s  plays  arranged 
for  the  popular  amateur  and  professional  vaudeville  evenings. 
It  i.  full  of  merry  songs  and  dances,  refined,  spirited  and  very 
amusing  always.  Price,  15  cents. 


THE  DRAMATIC  PUBLISHING  COMPANY’S  CATALOGUE 


5 


Modern  Ananias.  Comedy  in  three  acts,  by  John  A. 
Fraser,  Jr.,  author  “Noble  Outcast,”  “Showman’s  Ward,”  etc. 
Four  male,  four  female  characters.  Two  interior,  one  exterior 
scenes.  Modern  society  costumes.  Plays  three  hours.  This  is 
a  screaming  farcical  comedy,  which  depends  upon  the  wit  and 
humor  of  its  lines  no  less  than  upon  the  drollery  and  absurdity 
of  its  situations  for  the  shrieks  of  laughter  it  invariably  pro¬ 
vokes.  Unlike  most  farcical  comedies.  “A  Modern  Ananias” 
has  an  ingeniously  complicated  plot,  which  maintains  a  keen 
dramatic  interest  until  the  fall  of  the  last  curtain.  The  scen¬ 
ery,  if  necessary,  may  be  reduced  to  a  garden  scene  and  an  in¬ 
terior.  The  climaxes  are  all  hilariously  funny,  and  each  of 
the  three  acts  is  punctured  with  laughs  from  beginning  to 
end.  Amateurs  will  find  nothing  more  satisfactory  in  the 
whole  range  of  the  comic  drama  than  this  up-to-date  comedy- 
farce.  The  fullest  stage  directions  accompany  the  book,  in¬ 
cluding  all  the  “crosses”  and  positions,  pictures,  etc.  Price, 
25  cents. 

Noble  Outcast.  Drama  in  four  acts,  by  John  A.  Fraser, 
Jr.,  author  “Modern  Ananias,”  “Merry  Cobbler,”  “Cheerful 
Lfiar,”  etc.  Four  male,  three  female  characters.  Plays  three 
hours.  Costumes,  modern,  except  Jerry’s,  when  he  appears  as 
a  tramp  and  again  as  an  exagerated  “swell.”  This  play  has 
proven  one  of  the  most  popular  ever  produced  on  the  profes¬ 
sional  stage,  but  the  author  for  the  first  time  now  allows  it  to 
be  printed  from  the  original  manuscript.  All  the  entrances, 
exits  and  positions  will  be  found  in  the  book  of  the  play.  It  is 
safe  to  say  that  in  the  whole  range  of  the  drama  there  is  no 
character  to  be  found  with  such  power  to  compel  alternate 
laughter  and  tears  as  is  shown  by  “Jerry,  the  tramp.”  The 
dramatic  interest  is  always  intense.  Price,  25  cents. 

Pair  of  Artists.  Comedy  in  three  acts,  by  Effie  W.  Merri- 
man,  author  of  “Maud  Muller,”  “Socials,”  etc.  Four  male, 
three  female  characters.  Plays  one  and  three-quarters  hours. 
Three  interior  scenes,  all  easily  arranged.  Mrs.  Scott  wears 
bloomers  and  a  man’s  hat;  Mr.  Scott,  blue  overalls  and  a 
checked  gingham  apron;  Gertie,  a  long-sleeved  apron  and  hair 
braided  down  her  back;  the  others,  conventional  dress  of  to¬ 
day.  Each  character  has  a  prominent  part.  There  is  no  vil¬ 
lain  or  heavy  people;  all  goes  with  a  vim,  and  has  been  pre¬ 
sented  to  the  most  critical  audiences  with  entire  success. 
Price,  15  cents. 

Purse,  The.  Comedy  in  two  acts;  dramatized  by  Theo¬ 
dore  Harris,  from  Balzac’s  “Ea  Bourse.”  Seven  male,  two 
female  characters.  Plays  one  hour  and  fifty  minutes.  Interior 
scenes.  Costumes  of  the  time  of  Napoleon  I.  The  exquisite 
language  and  sentiment  of  this  noted  French  writer  has  been 
admirably  translated  by  Mr.  Harris.  For  a  student  of  dra¬ 
matic  literature,  this  play  is  recommended.  The  dialogue  is 
as  dainty  and  charming  as  a  piece  of  French  porcelain. 
Price,  15  cents. 


16 


THE  DRAMATIC  PUBLISHING  COMPANY’S  CATALOGUE 


The  “Deestrick  Skule”  of  Fifty 

Years  Ago 

By  Mk.  M.  H.  Jaouith. 

Fifteen  to  fifty  people  are  required  to  give  this  entertain¬ 
ment.  Old-fashioned  costumes  of  fifty  years  ago  are  worn, 
grown  men  and  women  dressing  as  the  boys  and  girls  of  that 
time  in  America.  The  book  gives  full  suggestions  for  the 
costumes.  It  contains  questions  and  answers  for  the  classes, 
“compositions”  and -“pieces”  for  the  entertainment  and  a 
parting  poetical  “trib-ute”  from  the  “ma”  of  two  pairs  of 
twins.  This  is  the  strongest  burlesque  entertainment-  in  use 
for  societies  and  clubs,  and  is  always  successful  when  given. 
The  7)io st  popular  entertainment  ever  published.  Price,  50  cents. 


“Exerbition”  of  the  Deestrick  Skule 
of  Fifty  Years  Ago 

By  Mrs.  M.  H.  Jaouith. 

The  “Deestrick  Skule”  .has  given  the  public  the  purest  fun 
and  made  the  most  money  for  charity  of  any  known  entertain¬ 
ment...  The  “Fxerbition,-”  which  .we  this, season  published  for 
the  first  time,  is  just  as  amusing.  The  “las’  day”  of  every 
well-conducted  “skule”  was  always  given  to  the  “Fxerbition,” 
and  in  it  the  same  scholars  are  brought  in  again  who  were  so 
well-known  in  the  “Deestrick  Skule.”  The  day  is  divided  into 
the  forenoon  session,  the  noon  hour  and  the  afternoon  speakin’, 
with  the  visit  of  the  ‘‘Skule  Committee.”  Price,  50  cents. 


Barberine  and  Other  Comedies 

By  Alfred  de  Musset. 

“The  grace  and  delicacy  of  his  remarkable  dramas,  the  in¬ 
tensity  with  which  the  story  is  adapted  to  the  moral,  the  abund¬ 
ant  wit  which  illustrates  and  pervades  them,  makes  them 
unique  in  literature.” — Georae 

“Strange,  fastastic,  exquisite  little  comedies. ”-Heniaj  James. 

-o  mo.,  cloth,  gilt  top,  $1.25. 


PLAYS 


\AJ  E  keep  in  stock  one  of  the  largest  anc 
’  v  best  assorted  lines  of  plays  to  bt 
found  in  the  country. 

We  can  furnish  any  play  published 
Individuals  and  societies  interested  ir 
this  class  of  publications  should  firs 
examine  our  lists  before  ordering  else 
where. 

Full  descriptive  catalogue,  giving 
titles,  number  of  characters,  time  requirec 
for  production,  etc.,  will  be  sent  free  oi 
application. 

The  Dramatic  Publishing  Company, 

358  Dearborn  Street, 


CHICAGO. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS-URBAN  A 


3  0112  041566917 


